


Type

by 2spooky4u, your mom (2spooky4u)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Danny - Freeform, Danny in the closet, Danny is a boss, Danny is best, Danny-centric, Friendship, Gen, Jackson and Danny's epic bromance, Oblivious Jackson, Teen Wolf more like the Danny Fucking Rocks show, because Danny, but hey Jackson's on to something, this really has nothing to do with werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2spooky4u/pseuds/2spooky4u, https://archiveofourown.org/users/2spooky4u/pseuds/your%20mom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in the closet is really, really starting to become difficult for Danny. Especially where his friendship with Jackson is concerned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Type

**Author's Note:**

> Idk where this came from??????? I just REALLY FUCKING LOVE DANNY OKAY HE NEEDS MORE LOVE
> 
> I also think since Jackson's kind of an inherent jerk most of the time Danny would have trouble coming out to him for fear of losing his best friend? Idk
> 
> It's not a shipfic so don't be too angry
> 
> But I do really ship Danny/Jackson and there needs to be more ugh
> 
> Not betaed so be nice and stuff

Something was up with Danny. Something big. It had to be, or else why would he be acting so strange and withdrawn? Jackson let it slide for a while, but finally he grew fed up with Danny's careful, rehearsed speech patterns, the way he moved stiffly and formal around Jackson. Hell, come to think of it, he was acting like that around all of their friends, and he was having trouble making eye contact.

So he cornered him.

"Is it drugs?" Jackson demanded out of the blue, very much in Danny's personal space. Danny swallowed, eyes darting around his friend's face, everywhere but his eyes.

"Um- what?" Danny mumbled, trying very hard to ignore the fact that he could feel Jackson's breath on him, was close enough to reach out and touch.

"Drugs, Danny. You've been acting all weird lately."

"N-no," the smaller boy muttered.

"Not drugs, then. What have you been hiding, man?" Jackson squinted and moved his face even closer.

Danny willed himself to think of something, anything that would distract him from Jackson's compelling body heat. He had to keep it together. The elderly English substitute with severe halitosis. Road kill. Math homework.

Jackson dropped it, for a little while.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Whoah, Danny, check it out."

Danny followed Jackson's gaze to a well-dressed girl standing behind Marcus Taylor in the lunch line.

"What?" Danny asked. "It's just a new kid."

"Duh, she's hot, man," Jackson said, rolling his eyes.

Oh. Oh.

"Oh. Yes. Yes, she is.... well dressed." Danny forced himself to rake his eyes along her body, instead taking stock of her outfit. The navy blazer kind of clashed with the rather childish pink skirt, but the boots looked really awesome against her winter-pale legs. He took in the pink birthmark on the back of her knee, so it would look like he was ogling her legs. He hoped that she had had the mark checked out. Those things could be cancerous or something, someone had told him once.

"Well dressed," Jackson repeated, scoffing.

Danny shrugged, trying for a nonchalant look, but failing miserably, sending out the distinct aura of an animal soon to be road kill.

"Not your type, huh, man?"

Danny looked at his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the poor defenseless thing being torn to shreds in his hands. Jackson squinted at him.

"No. Not really my type," he replied, gaze lingering on Marcus Taylor's wonderfully broad shoulders before giving up on the sandwich and eating his Greek yogurt instead.

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm doing homework, Mom," Danny said irately as the knocking on his door continued. He wasn't doing homework; far from it, in fact. He was paging through the clothing catalogs that he had a weakness for, the ones peppered with unrealistically attractive male models who had impeccable taste in clothing and were perfectly groomed. He had told himself that he sent away for them so he could look at the clothes, nothing more, but he found himself staring at the faces and the bodies more than the clothes.

The picture he was looking at now was ludicrous. He knew, of course, that these guys didn't really exist, that they were playing a part. But this one, especially, was over the top. Seven perfectly carved guys stood in the middle of the street, shirtless, arms thrown around each other. Each one had a different style of pants on, and their boxers peeked out over the top. They were laughing at some unheard joke, happy and perfect and airbrushed.

The knocking continued, insistent.

"Give me a minute," Danny groused, annoyed now. It had taken him a long time to quell the self hatred that came with his liking guys for long enough to let himself look at them, and it was just plain cruel to interrupt him now. In order to spite the transgressor, he decided to fully read the names and descriptions of each.

Subdued Cargo Pant was apparently a huge customer favorite! It had plenty of pockets but stayed classy. Danny frowned. They were ugly, but the model wearing them was another story altogether.... Came in burnt oak and pinewood.

Neither the Rugged Cargo Pant nor its model were anything to write home about, not compared to the others. But even the ugliest of the seven models would be way out of Danny's league, he thought distractedly. Came in burnt oak, Boston beige, maple, and granite.

The Autumn Casual jeans were awesome, and they hugged the model's hips perfectly, tapering down in a flattering manner without being too tight. Also, they brought direct attention to the model's perfect abs, and those enticing little curves of muscle dipping out of reach below the waistband of the boxers. Came in timeless stone wash and modern navy. Danny circled the timeless stone wash (and, thusly, the model wearing the timeless stone wash).

The next two were neutral toned khakis, lending the models a relaxed but preppy vibe. They would probably look more as professional as the descriptions claimed had the models chosen to wear shirts, but Danny certainly wasn't complaining. The Classic Khaki and the Revamped Khaki could both be ordered in ice blue, chalk blue, crushed rose, nautical navy, or deep autumn. The models, sadly, were not for sale.

"Danny, open your freaking door before I break it down," Jackson said. Jackson? Oops. Danny froze, debating on what to do.

He calmed himself down by reassuring himself that normal guys looked at catalogs, right? Then another voice reminded him that he was as normal as anyone, that he should really substitute the word 'normal' in his mind for the word 'heterosexual' as those dudes suggested online.

"Yah, coming," Danny said, and if Jackson eyed the catalogs a little weirdly, he didn't find them suspicious enough to mention.

"I like what you circled," he said, tone neutral. "You should go for whatever you want."

Danny made a noncommittal noise and swept the catalogs for the floor so that they could start their science homework.

Danny ordered the jeans, and they were one of his favorite pairs until they got an irreversible coffee stain on them one clumsy morning. He forgot the catalog soon enough as the new ones came in their place.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jackson came over one night after a particularly taxing Friday night practice that left neither one of them up for much more then vegging out with a bowl of buttered popcorn but not too tired for chilling.

Danny put the movie in, some rental Jackson had picked up in what was probably the last video rental store on the West Coast, if not the entire country. Seriously, who didn't have Netflix or anything? But Jackson liked going there. It was very like him to turn something as simple as choosing a movie into a social event, never one to pass up a potential opportunity to chat with interesting people or hot girls. He had told Danny once that you could tell a lot about someone by what movies they rented, because they were not favored enough for the person to own but not insignificant enough to be left on the shelf. Plus, apparently a girl with a stack of chick flicks meant a recent breakup nine times out of ten. Danny had tried to seem interested while wondering why the girls didn't just go online for their cliched romances instead.

"The remote's out of batteries," he explained nonchalantly when Jackson wondered why he was getting up to press the buttons on the T. V. itself.

Unfortunately for Danny and his paranoid crusade to avoid anything related to homosexuality when around others (he didn't trust himself to not give anything away if a conversation ensued) the only buttons on the T. V. were the power, play, pause, stop, volume up, and volume down buttons.

Which meant he couldn't fast forward.

Which meant that the agonizingly long preview for _Brokeback Mountain_ couldn't be skipped.

Which meant he actively had to remember to breathe while suddenly far too close to Jackson as the tender subject was paraded (ha ha) across the stupidly large screen.

He almost shouted thanks to the universe when Jackson announced distractedly that he wanted popcorn.

"Besides, I've already seen all of the movies they're advertising," Jackson continued.

Danny made the best popcorn he had ever made in his life in order to not dwell on what Jackson's reaction to _Brokeback Mountain_ might have been.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
"Yo, pause it, man, I'm thirsty. All this freaking popcorn," Jackson said during a particularly dull montage scene in the same movie. "You're really, really good at making this stuff."

"Glad you like," Danny replied mechanically. He was really focused on sitting the way a normal guy- no, a hetero guy- would sit on a love seat with another guy, when they were both really too large for personal space.

Jackson rolled his eyes at Danny's glazed face and paused the movie right at the moment the stupidly attractive lead male was getting out of the shower in just a towel, no doubt for the lead female's benefit. Danny stared, not thinking about it, at the smooth, hairless, muscular chest, dripping with water. The HD definitely didn't help the growing problem in his boxers.

Danny absently stretched his legs over the other side of the love seat. Later, he would applaud himself for the way that the motion prevented Jackson from sitting so close to him again.

Jackson soon returned, grumbling at him for stealing his spot before grabbing the entire bowl of popcorn and taking it with him to a different armchair with his root beer.

"Earth to Danny Mahealani. Are you okay, dude?" Jackson's question finally broke through into Danny's focus on the T. V. and the beautiful image displayed. "Surely the poor bastard who is about to become the next victim of our friendly neighborhood serial killer here can't be that interesting," he joked. Danny's heart pounded as he fumbled for an excuse or a reply or a joke or something.

"Chem test tomorrow," he said. "Nervous."

"One, it's a quiz, two, you're acing chem, and three, tomorrow's Saturday, not Monday."

"That's what I meant," Danny said, not really convincing Jackson of his mental awareness.

Jackson sighed. Danny bit his thumbnail.

"Danny, I'm starting to get really worried about you lately. Is there something going on?"

"I really need to buy some new batteries," Danny mused.

"Danny. I'm your best friend. You know you can tell me anything, whether it's drugs or a girl or you've been bitten by that gay vampire from Twilight and can't quell your new found thirst for human flesh."

"Edward isn't gay," Danny said, then cringing at himself for his choice of words.

"What?" Jackson said, dumbfounded.

Danny shrugged.

"Who's Edward?" Jackson continued to pry. "Is he that vampire dude from Twilight? Seriously? You know his name? And how do you know he's not? It seems pretty obvious to me."

"Saw a preview," Danny replied, finally something true in this conversation. "His name was Edward and his love interest was some mopey girl."

"Oh. But he seemed really gay," Jackson remarked. Danny studied his newly shortened fingernails.

"'Cause he's pretty?"

"Yeah- what?" Jackson tilted his head.

"Pretty. Like, he looks like a girl," Danny mumbled quickly. "Got to be gay, with that level of personal grooming."

"Coming from the guy who uses, like, eight different hair thingies."

"Hair thingies?" Danny raised his eyebrows.

"Yah. All that stuff you use."

"Don't admit you don't care about how you look, Jackson," admonished the boy on the love seat.

"'Course I do, I'm beautiful. That doesn't make me a homo."

Danny scoffed to cover the way the word 'homo' stung.

"Then what does? I mean, so Edward cares about his looks. Everyone does. Except possibly Coach. So what makes you think he's gay?"

It took him a moment to register the defensive ay he had spat out the words, and the enormous chink in his 'don't ever talk about homosexuality' armor.

"I don't know. Jesus, dude, jumpy much?"

"Sorry, uh, it's a sore subject," he blathered.

A beat passed.

"I mean, uh, my cousin, he, um, came out, and um, he got bullied pretty bad-"

"You don't have cousins," Jackson pointed out. "You're just jumpy about everything."

"I am not jumpy about everything."

"I tapped your shoulder to ask you a question about the Boston Tea Party in study hall and you almost broke my wrist. Don't give me bullshit. I know you better than that, and it's starting to piss me off that you don't trust me enough to just fucking tell me whatever the hell it is that's turning you into a human land mine."

"Got a lot on my mind," Danny muttered.

Silence.

"Care to tell me?" Jackson asked, and to his credit, he seemed genuinely concerned.

More silence.

Danny felt nauseous.

The T. V.'s screensaver began to play, plunging the room into a much darker gloom, but hey, at least the hot soon-to-be murder victim was gone.

"I....."

Danny trailed off, more anxious than he'd been in a very, very long time.

"Danny." Jackson's voice was much softer from the accusatory tone it had been earlier in the conversation. He was genuinely concerned, and obviously not afraid to talk deep stuff with a hurting bro.

Danny didn't respond. He was afraid of what Jackson would think of he said what was really weighing on his mind.

"I'm going to tell you something I haven't told anybody," Jackson continued quietly. "Seriously, nobody knows this but my parents, and the child psychol- Look, dude, when I was like ten or eleven I got really fixated on the fact that I was adopted. I had all sorts of theories on why what I called my 'real' parents didn't want me, and bottom line I convinced myself that I was worthless and they somehow knew that and abandoned me."

Danny started to object. "Jackson, you-"

"Shut up. I'm spilling my guts here. I didn't know yet that my parents had died when I was little, or that they hadn't just given me up for adoption 'cause they knew I was a failure. Point is, I got depressed, and I hated myself, and I saw a child psychologist for a while until she figured out why I was so messed up inside and she told my adoptive parents and my adoptive parents finally told me that my birth parents died when I was really little and that they loved me very much.

"But, Danny, I spent so long hating myself, and I know it when I see it. Like that girl, Claire or something, who got an eating disorder in eighth grade. I saw her running off to throw up after lunch and I finally told our teacher because I knew how she felt. And if that's what's going on with you, I don't really care if you don't want to tell me, but whatever it is that you can't get over, you've got to get over.

"Do you have any salt?" Jackson finished his monologue and went off to look for the condiment in the kitchen.

Danny wondered how he had gotten a friend like Jackson, and how bad of a friend he himself was for not just coming out already.

And Jackson was right, he realized with a shock. He thought he had accepted himself, but there was still that nagging, forceful pessimism whenever he thought about a guy in a non-platonic manner.

He knew he had to tell Jackson, but the mood was ruined as the T. V. got turned on again and Shirtless Catalyst got stabbed in that flawless chest. Maybe Jackson wasn't as sensitive as he had thought.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

"No more beer for you," Jackson said, giggling, as Danny missed his mouth completely while trying to drink more of the very liquid in question.

"Tha 's nahhhht faaaa-iiiirr," Danny slurred exaggeratedly.

"You're hammerered, dude," Jackson said, grabbing Danny's beer and chugging the remainder.

"Nope. I am not hammered."

"Yah, you totally are."

"Okay, fine. I am drunk." Danny punched where he thought Jackson's shoulder was. Jackson swerved out of the way, and Danny stumbled, grabbing at his friend's shirt to try and right himself but they both toppled over onto the floor, laughing giddily.

They rolled away from each other, grinning stupidly at the ceiling.

"You're my bro," Jackson said, waving his arm loosely in the air for emphasis.

"Me too."

Jackson continued to sip at the empty bottle despite its lack of drink, and they laid comfortably, relishing in their epic bromance and even more epic intoxication levels.

"I wish I could wear hats more of'en," Jackson mused, hiccuping. "I mean, hats 're so....cool. So coooool. But you can't wear hats in school an' I look stupid in a baseball cap. I mean like how come girls c'n wear all those cool hats?"

Danny shrugged, despite the fact that they weren't looking at one another and Jackson wouldn't be able to see him.

"I don't know. You can wear hats," he said, in a serious tone like he was granting Jackson the keys to unlimited happiness. "Hats are awesome."

They laid in silence for a while, Jackson fascinated at the ceiling and Danny just floating along.

"I'm gay," he heard someone say. Oh, crap, that was him. Oh well.

"What?" Jackson asked, thoroughly enjoying the ceiling's apparent beauty.

"I like guys," Danny said, noting somewhere in a fuzzy back portion of his brain that this wasn't wise.

"Mm'kay," Jackson said simply.

"I mean, you're not freaked out?" Danny blubbered. "You don't think I'm gross?"

"Nah, bro, you're my bro. Bro," he added, finding the repetition unbelievably amusing.

"Cool."

"I mean, 's long 's you don', like, have a secret gay crush on me or something." Jackson tried once again to drink from the empty beer, not able to process the fact that it was empty and therefore not going to yield anything.

"That's like, totally empty, dude," Danny said.

"You don' have, like, a secret gay crush on me, do you?" Jackson asked.

"Nah. You're not my type."

"Cool. But it would be kind of cool if I was gay so we could date," Jackson babbled.

"Not my type," Danny reminded him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Life went on. Danny came out to the rest of his friends and fellow lacrosse players, and his family, and then everyone sort of knew somehow and accepted it for the most part. Being out had benefits, like other boys who also liked other boys could approach him. There were always a few douches, there always would be, and sometimes Danny secretly wondered how much shit he would have been getting had Jackson not been cool with his sexuality or had he not been Jackson's absolute closest friend or had Jackson not had the status he had.

But life, for the most part, treated him pretty well, despite the fact that he was sometimes forced to monitor Jackson's rabid ego.

And that meant a lot of times Danny found himself in the position reminding his friend that he really wasn't everybody's type.

**Author's Note:**

> I realized after I wrote this that this is a five times fic and then I chided myself for being so cliche but I was kind of intoxicated writing this so I imagine that it has greater fallacies
> 
>  
> 
> now i need to sleep before writing something even worse


End file.
